


Fairytale Princess, Not A

by thewhiterose3



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Female Friendship, Gen, Women Being Awesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-23
Updated: 2013-12-23
Packaged: 2018-01-05 16:35:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1096163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewhiterose3/pseuds/thewhiterose3
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jemma soon learns that nothing is impossible with Melinda May.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fairytale Princess, Not A

**Author's Note:**

  * For [minor_ramblings](https://archiveofourown.org/users/minor_ramblings/gifts).



As expected, Jemma finds her doing Tai Chi in one of the secluded bays. It usually was not difficult to locate Melinda May at this time of day. Her mornings were structured and to Jemma, they seemed almost like a ritual necessary to keep all of her power, all of that potential for fury and violence contained inside that deceptively lithe body.

 

Jemma has no doubt that Melinda May is fully aware of her presence. She probably heard her approach long before she entered the corridor. She is simply the best and Jemma took a moment to watch the fluid, controlled movements that Jemma could never find herself capable of unless she is in the lab. Everything comes together there, she and Fitz working in tandem to parse meaning out of their newest mystery. But even in that place where they find order in the chaos, it isn’t always safe. The bus, their lab, their home does not guarantee safety. Recent events had solidified that fact in all of their minds.

 

She takes a moment to remember the fear, to recall the helpless feeling whenever someone grabbed her, pushed her, tried to use her presence to get to her team. It seemed to be happening to one or more of them on every case lately. It is just a matter of time before one of them is captured, tortured. Statistically, Jemma will be taken eventually. She wants to be ready when that time comes. _I am not a fairytale princess, I am a SHIELD agent. I should not need to be constantly saved._

 

Reinvigorated with purpose, Jemma opens her eyes only to find dark orbs studying her in return.

 

“Oh, yes. Ms. May, hello,” Jemma stuttered out, startled, physically taking a step back. Her companion simply raises an eyebrow, asking for Jemma to please, get to the point.

 

“Yes, well, I was wondering, if you possibly had the time, I know you are very busy, if you would be willing to possibly teach me,” she sometimes wondered how she had ever gotten certified as an agent when she was unable to make a clear and concise request to her own teammate. And of course, said teammate simply continued to stare at her, assessing. Subtle movements in her eyebrows somehow expressing that Jemma need to be a tad more specific to warrant an actual response from the woman in front of her.

 

“Details, yes, of course. There is so much someone like you could teach me, with your experience in the field  and my um,  lack,” she begins, gesticulating when she cannot find the adequate words. “But that would take ages, learning all you have to teach. Yes, of course, I have a specific request at present, I was wondering if you could possibly teach me how to better be an asset to the team. You know lately, with insurgents coming aboard the bus,” Jemma cannot restrain the sweep of her hand encompassing their newly rebuilt home. “ You, Agent Ward, Agent Coulson, you won’t always be around and I was hoping to garner some instruction as to the best way to... eliminate a threat and defend the lab should someone attempt to use one of us as leverage. You know statistically, SHIELD agents in the field go under cover or get taken by the enemy an average of once every seventeen cases, and with six of us on the team, the chance that I will,” she continues, diving into numbers and reason when social niceties fail.

 

“Simmons,” she is thankfully interrupted by Melinda May’s somehow calm, assertive, impatient and very possibly fond bark of her name.

 

“Ma’am?,” Jemma asks, head down, peeking up through her lashes like a repentant child, her hands wrung together in front of her without her permission.

Melinda May, ever stoic and majestic, simply stares. Impossibly though successfully communicating that she is fully aware that there is a greater purpose behind Jemma’s babbling. Jemma knows that greater agents than she have succumbed to it. Namely, everyone.

 

“I am not a fairytale princess,” she blurts as her face reddens. She must continue now, “I am a SHIELD agent. I should not need to be constantly saved.” It is the mantra in her head that refuses to go away. Her posture straightens on its own accord with her honesty and when her eyes meet Melinda May’s again, the superior agent is smirking.

 

“Better,” May replies, her smirk phasing into a genuine smile.

 

Progress, though slow, comes much quicker than at the Academy. Melinda May is the best teacher of the physical arts that Jemma has ever had. She does not feel bullied or teased or pitied as has occurred in the past. She does not feel as if she is being put in the remedial class, Hand to Hand Combat... for Scientists. Speaking to her in clinical terms, using Jemma’s knowledge of the weaknesses of the human body, May is patient and stern and inconceivably never becomes exasperated with what Jemma can only parse as her lack of progress and deluge of questions. She soon learns that nothing is impossible with Melinda May.

 

Repetition, it turns out, is the key. This new endeavor takes daily adherence as lessons learned under May’s critical eye are duplicated in private. The daily chore becomes pleasing, time passing as Jemma falls into her own head and lets her body lift and bend and stretch on its own accord. It is a fascinating feeling, having her body remember without need of input from her conscious thoughts.

 

May smiles now, when Jemma appears for their lessons. A mutual respect formed from willingness and dedication rather than legend for May or a string of letters after Jemma’s name.

 

Jemma knows that she will never be good. She will never reach the levels of competence found in Agents Ward or Coulson, much less May. But she feels, for the first time, an awareness of her body, a greater knowledge of her strengths and weaknesses and how to use each of those against a variety of opponents. Thankfully, six months into her training, Jemma still has  not been captured, though she has thrown a few punches in defense of her team.

 

She has even found herself more aware of people around her, the ease she feels with Leo in her space settling even more as she is able to unconsciously predict his movements and evade his sharp elbows accordingly. Her shining moment though, comes on a random Thursday.

 

Jemma and Fitz are puttering around in their lab, running a diagnostic on the dwarves as the bus speeds them to their next investigation. Suddenly, Jemma becomes aware that Leo’s off-handed humming of “Heigh Ho” has faltered to a stop. There is a hand inches away from Jemma’s head and Leo is still on the other side of the room. She instinctively ducks, grabs the offending hand and twists it behind the perpetrator’s back before her brain even begins to process the correct course of action.

 

It turns out to be Skye, can of whipping cream falling from her now limp hand, gasping in surprise. Jemma’s brain catalogues Fitz’s squeal of delight and Skye’s exclamations of surprise, but they are simply background noise. Her attention is immediately drawn to a smirking, beaming May, hip propped on a table.

 

“Good girl,” May congratulates her and even if the inevitable never comes to pass, Jemma knows all these months have been worth it.

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Jemma and Melinda May are my favorites, so I may have indulged a little. I hope this fic brings a smile to your face and that your holiday season has been and continues to be a wondrous one!
> 
> Disclaimer: They're so pretty, but alas, they will never be mine.


End file.
